


Psych

by theoriginalicecreamqueen



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psych Fusion, Explicit Language, Gen, Leonard Snart Big Bang, Metahuman Leonard Snart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginalicecreamqueen/pseuds/theoriginalicecreamqueen
Summary: Leonard Snart has simple goals for life in Central City. He wants his partner and sister happy, his father out of sight and out of mind, and to keep his criminal dealings below the radar of the CCPD. This all becomes much more complicated when a few good deeds, a spontaneous lie, and a far to cute CSI drag him into a heroic role no Snart was ever meant to play.Or the Psych AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

Leonard Snart had found himself sitting in a jail cell multiple times in his life. Before this very moment, he was never worried about these so called “visits” he periodically had with the CCPD. He might be a thief, but his … _non-traditional_ … upbringing ensured he never left any evidence behind. There was a damn good reason he was known (amongst a select few, of course) as the best thief to ever operate out of Central City.

 

Len’s job last month had deviated from his plan though, and something he’d done must have left a clue to his identity behind. Why else would he have been forced down to the police station first thing in the morning?

 

“Hello!” Len called out, banging his handcuffed hands and making them screech as he pulled against where they were cuffed to the table. The inevitable bruises were worth the agitation it caused whoever was watching him. “You can’t just leave me in here with no explanations! If you aren’t officially holding me, I’d like to go, and if you are arresting me then I’d like my lawyer now. I know you're not denying a law-abiding, tax paying citizen...”

 

“Shut it, Snart. We all know you’re even more crooked than your old man,” Joe West sneered as he strolled into the interrogation room.

 

Damn, Len should have known who was behind this. His father’s old partner had never got rid of the thorn in his side where the Snart family was concerned - much less the giant stick up his ass. _Of course_ Detective West jumped at the chance to arrest him.

 

Unfortunately, West wasn’t just an angry guy with a grudge over being duped by his first partner over two decades ago. The man was also a talented, determined detective. If West was working the disappearance of the Kahndaq Dynasty Diamond from Central City Natural History Museum, he might be in some serious trouble.

 

Even if West didn’t figure him out, the Sheikh he stole the diamond back for probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra attention. His client’s family had been waiting for its return for over a century, and the man had been very insistent about his need for secrecy.

 

Len wasn’t going down without a fight though. West could kiss his hairy ass if he thought otherwise.

 

Besides, it not like he didn’t have a plan in case the cops ever did manage to pin something on him. Mick and Lisa would get him out before he ever made it to the Heights, if it came to that.

 

“Detective West,” Len greeted with a false, yet bright grin, “You’re looking horrible. Did you sleep in the suit? Guess you were just too damn excited to see me again to bother dressing like a real boy.”

 

West’s face started turning red as he puffed up his chest, slowing stalking towards Len. He braced himself, not trusting the rules West loved to parrot to keep the man’s tightly clenched fist from their objective.

 

“Always great to see you too, kid. Tell me, how’s the old man? Still rotting in Iron Heights last I heard. Guess you couldn’t wait to spend some time together,” West cut back, smirking across the table at him like he thought mentioning Len’s dad would actually matter.

 

Len already knew Lewis Snart was giant sack of shit. It’s not like he needed a reminder from some other poor asshole his dad screwed over. He raised a single eyebrow in response, holding back a smirk as this visibly ruffled West.

 

Before the detective could snap again, the door flung open to allow a perky, blond detective to join them. Under different circumstances, Len would have been happy to meet the man. He was attractive in a very wholesome, all-American way, and his smile was still soft in a way that screamed the new detective must be a rookie.

 

“Hello, Leonard. I’m Detective Eddie Thawne, and I believe you already know my partner,” the rookie introduced himself, warm smile directed at Len as he sat beside West.

 

“New blood?” Len asked West, smiling pleasantly in a way he knew would irk the older man. When the detective’s scowl deepened - predictably - Len continued. “I see you haven’t trained the manners out of him yet.”

 

“You’re a clever guy, aren’t you, Leonard?” Detective Thawne asked him as he placed a placating hand on his partner.

 

Maybe this guy wasn’t as green as he assumed. He managed to (mildly at least) calm West, and he was actually using some strategy here. Admittedly good cop/bad cop was a cliché, but at least it was better than West had done on his own.

 

“Apparently I’m not the only one,” purred Len. He leered openly as he spoke, too, enjoying the small shift the detective let out before tamping down on his obvious discomfort.

 

Thawne must be straight. It was kind of disappointing. He’d always wanted to fuck a cop.

 

“Cut the crap, Snart. I know how much you love wasting department resources - ” Len snorted, which West dutifully ignored. “ But I don’t want to waste my whole damned day on you. So, why don’t you make my job easy for once and fess up. We’ve got you dead to rights this time.”

 

His snort turned into outright laughter. For fucks sakes, you’d think someone that knew his old man like West did would do better than to think he’d cave so easily. Between all of Lewis’s _lessons_ on police work and his _lessons_ about what a waste his children were, Len knew how to handle anything the CCPD might try and throw at him. West huffed, probably annoyed when he realized Len’s laughter grew more intense instead of petering out.

 

“I don’t know shit, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me whatever you think I did this time so I can deny it, inevitably prove I’m right, and then go home. Lisa’s making kielbasa tonight and there will be hell to pay for both of us if I miss it.”

 

“Hate to break it to you, but your sister’s going to have to deal with the disappointment. You aren’t getting out of this one,” West countered.

 

Len had enough of this shit. His job may have gone a bit of the rails when the timing got thrown off by a change in the guard rotations, but there was no way they had any sort of definite proof. The man’s statement would count for circumstantial at best, particularly since the old geezer hadn’t even seen his face.

 

“For fucks sake you _complete and utter dick_ ,” Len snapped back. “What bullshit do you think you’ve got on me this time? I’ve literally got no idea what you are talking about.”

 

Thawne, obviously still amused, finally decided to be useful. “Mr. Snart, we’ve brought you in today to talk with you about the recent slew of criminals you’ve reported to the CCPD through our recent metahuman tip line. The amount of stuff you’ve told us… Well, to be perfectly frank with you, it’s astounding. The kind of information that can only be obtained through seriously close contact.”

 

“You cannot be serious. You’ve brought me in because you think - incorrectly, I might add - _I’ve_ been reporting criminal activity? And even if I was reporting criminal activity, how in the hell is that a crime?”

 

“It’s not a crime, usually. But you reported on 14 different cases with the kind of information only an insider could have,” Eddie replied.

 

Len snorted, forcing himself not to tense. “You mean the infamous anonymous tip line our darling mayor is so proud of? There is no way you traced those calls to anyone, much less me seeing as _I didn’t make any damned calls_.”

 

It may have been a lie. Len was the first to admit he wasn’t always a law abiding citizen - present company excluded, of course  - but everyone who was really in the game knew there were limits.

 

In his defense, things had gotten seriously fucked up in Central City since the Particle Accelerator exploded. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of the CCPD, he still couldn’t let some things go. In addition to how completely out of line some of these wannabe criminals were, they were also getting in his way. He couldn’t do his own jobs if overreaching metas and the recently unemployed Star Labs mega-geniuses completely destroyed the city.

 

“We can, and we did. The tip line may be anonymous for most people, but not for those who call in 14 accurate tips in three months,” Thawne responded with what was probably supposed to be a reassuring grin. Len really wanted to punch it.

 

“Not even with those tricks you tried pulling, Snart,” West cut in. “We’ve traced your cell, and we’ve got you on the security tape in from payphones you used. So why don’t you cut the crap and tell us the truth. See, we’ve got a bet going on around the department on whether you’re reporting partners to steal their cuts or knocking out the competition before they get in your way.”

 

“You want to know how I did it?” Len teased, leaning forward in his seat like he seriously considering letting them in.

 

“Damn straight we do, Snart!” West said, slamming his fist on the table for emphasis. “I always knew you were just as dirty as your old man! There is no way anyone who wasn’t involved could have known all this.”

 

“Not unless you’re psychic,” Thawne joked awkwardly, obviously trying to relieve some of the tension between his partner and Len.

 

It was pretty fucking stupid, but Len still wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. “I _am_ a psychic, you stupid assholes.”

 

“Really, Snart? That’s what you want to go with. There’s no such thing as psychics,” sneered West.

 

“Just like there is no such thing as men who control the weather, can travel through mirrors, or can turn into poison gas,” Len drawled sarcastically, raising a single eyebrow to piss off the detective. West looked like he was seriously considering the consequences of punching him, but Detective Thawne wasn’t able to completely stifle his amused snort.

 

“Listen here,” West sneered, gripping Len’s shirt to haul him halfway across the table. Before he could continue, his partner pulled him away and towards the door.

 

“Cool it, Joe,” Eddie scolded his partner, practically pushing him out the door. “Apologies, Mr. Snart. The CCPD has a simple blood test to check for the metahuman gene. If you’re willing to submit a sample to one of our CSIs and enroll in the CCPD’s meta database, I’ll personally make sure you’re out of here in time for dinner with your sister.”

 

Len forced the smirk off his face the detectives offer prompted to soften. This was going to work out better than he could have possibly dreamed.

 

“That’ll be no trouble at all, Detective Thawne. I’ll be waiting,” Len jiggled his wrist where they were still fastened to the table. It applied pressure to the bruises already forming, but it was worth if for the way he could hear Detective West raging in the hallway as Thawne slammed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite Detective Thawne’s assurances that Len would be released in time for dinner if the blood test came back positive, it seemed the CCPD wasn’t actually trying to get him out of their precinct. He couldn’t really blame them since he was actually a criminal, but it was still annoying to be left alone in an interrogation room for two hours.

 

The assholes didn’t even have the decency to uncuff him from the table. Len had considered getting out of the cuffs himself, but something told him that Central City’s finest probably wouldn’t believe that the ability to get out of cuffs like these came from one of his father’s many  _ lessons  _ but rather something more nefarious. It’s not like any of these dicks had believed him when it actually mattered.

 

Len shook his head, trying to force those thoughts out of his head. That hadn’t mattered for a long time, but being in this place and seeing Joe West always took his mind to a dark place.

 

Before he could go any farther down that line of thought, the door to the interrogation room slammed open, clanging uncomfortably loud against the far wall as a lithe, young CSI with a smoot stain across his face entered carrying an equipment bag that looked heavier than him entered the room like a whirlwind. Len didn’t have time to process the new arrival before he man started opening his thin, smiling lips and a wall of words came flying out.

 

“Sorry, sorry! I know I’m running super late. It’s kind of my permanent state of being, but it wasn’t my fault this time! There was a case downtown where we were all at, and the traffic on the way back was a nightmare since the explosion took out... and you know what, I’m probably not supposed to tell you that anyways. Please forget I said that. I’m CSI Barry Allen, and I’m here for your blood sample. Leonard Snart, right? Eddie said that you’re claiming the Particle Accelerator Explosion gave you psychic powers which is just  _ so cool _ . I mean, we all knew the accelerator was going to change everything we knew about science, but psychic powers? If only 10 year old Barry could see me now. He’d be  _ so _ amazed that I’m actually…”

 

“Barry is it? Not that this isn’t great and all, but do you think we could get a move on?” Len interrupted. Under better circumstances, Len would’ve let Barry ramble a while longer if the kid wanted to let slip more about the recent downtown bombings - plus the CSI was way too pretty to interrupt like that - but Len wasn’t staying in the damned place a second longer than he had to. “I’d really like to get these cuffs off soon.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Barry agreed, flushing brightly as he sat his bag on the table and started digging through the mildly organized chaos. The chattering completely stopped as he pulled what looked like a standard DNA test from some hidden depth, but his blushing didn’t. Despite his best efforts, Len felt a little guilty. The CSI was obviously uncomfortable now, and the kid had only been trying to be friendly. 

 

It was ridiculous. Len wouldn’t usually feel guilty for shutting up a kid too mouthy for his own good, but something about the subtle downturn of what had been a vibrant grin made his feel kind of hollow. He wasn’t used to anything nicer than forced courtesy in this damned place, and Barry had actually tried to genuinely kind.

 

Len was a dick. 

 

“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s been a long day, and I’m not exactly itching to spend any more time here,” Len apologized, scuffing his shoes and staring at the table to avoid the CSI’s gaze.

 

He could still see the way Barry’s blinding smile returned, especially after Barry tilted Len’s head up and in his direction with a gentle hand up his chin. With his other hand, he prepped the test.

 

“Open up,” Barry told him, sticking a cotton swab in his mouth. “It’s not a problem, Leonard. My foster-father always tells me I could talk a man to suicide and then salvation in a single breath.”

 

“Somehow, that really doesn’t surprise me,” Len laughed softly as soon as Barry took the swab out.

 

The CSI pretended to be outraged as he closed the sample up. It was a horrible attempt - the kid couldn’t even suppress his smile all the way - but Len found it endearing nonetheless. If friendly was unfamiliar to him in the CCPD’s main precinct, playful was a downright impossibility. Or it had been before Barry Allen walked into his interrogation room. 

 

“Kid, you should never,  _ ever _ , play poker.”

 

Barry’s pout turned a little more genuine as he fiddled with the zipper, but his eyes were still twinkling with barely compressed mirth. “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent poker player.”

 

“Tell you what, Barry Allen,” Len drawled teasingly, turning his smile more genuine and looking up at the kid through his lashes in a way that Len knew made him look more attainable. “When I inevitably pass this test, I’m going to have you prove that to me. If you’re interested, of course.”

 

“I’d like that,” Barry smiled as he tripped out of the interrogation room.

 

Len could never let Lisa find out just how endearing he found it. She'd never stop teasing him for the way Barry was making him grin.


	3. Chapter 3

“Well Mr. Snart, I’d like to thank you for your patience and cooperation on behalf of the CCPD. We just need to do one more quick test, and then you’re free to go,” Detective Thawne announced his presence, quickly reaching to undo his cuffs with one hand as he tightly clutched a file against his chest.

 

“Seriously? What the fuck do you need now? It took you five hours to uncuff my hands from the table,” Len snapped while raising his eyebrow, angling his head just enough to see the reflection of the file Thawne had been trying to block in the two-way mirror in the split second before the other man went to adjust his grip. If his already purpling bruises were going to further mauled, he had the right to see why.

 

It was an awkward, unpracticed movement that had Len rolling his eyes in exasperation. Just because the kid detective forgot to put a file down, Len’s poor, abused wrist were getting even rougher treatment. What the hell was so secretive anyways?

 

He distracted himself picturing pretty little redhead he’d glimpsed paperclipped on the front. Even with her hair in a tight, unforgiving bun and an army uniform, the woman was stunning. There was ash all under the detective fingernails, so with Barry’s slip up earlier that he’d been stuck down Len would be willing to bet she was the one causing all the ruckus with explosions all around downtown. That black smudge across his cheek really was from another bomb scene.

 

If Len could get a look inside that file and find her, Mick would be thrilled. A firebug that looked that hot was just his type, and that kind of talent could only come from a professional. According to Mick at least, and when it came to explosions he certainly trusted his partner’s judgment.

 

Besides, they could really use an IED specialist on their team, especially one that seemed to go out of her way to avoid casualties.

 

“The DNA test proves that you are, in fact, a metahuman, but it can’t show what powers you have,,” Thawne interrupted his musing. “So I’m going to need you to prove your ability now. Tell me who’s going to win the powerball, or what number I’m thinking, or what I’m gonna have for lunch today. I need you to give me something verifiable.”

 

“My powers don’t work like that. I need something to spark them, and even then I don’t control what I get,” Len answered, holding his gaze as he answered honestly at first before looking down at the table as though he was ashamed rather than lying his ass off.

 

After all, his old man always told him to play to his strengths, and a lifetime of dealing with Lewis Snart definitely made Len good at dealing with partial truths.

 

Thawne scowled briefly, a small amount of irritation through before his face became a mask of professionalism once more. “Okay then, tell me something - anything - that your powers have picked up while you’ve been in here. Something there is no way anyone told you. We can’t let you go without you proving what you can do.”

 

“You’re investigating someone named Bette San Succi as the bomber who’s been hitting around Central City, and you’re so caught up in the case after that explosion earlier today that you couldn’t even be bothered to drop the file back by your desk after your coffee break,” Len replied, confident in his deductions even if he was missing some pieces. It’d be worth a few missteps to get a look at that file. “Really though, Detective, with hair like that and a background as an IED specialist it’s no wonder she’s become a bit of a firebug. Personally, I blame the lack of mental health care our veterans get. It’s a damned shame, really.”

 

“How did you...”

 

Len cut him off, giddy at how gobsmacked the Detective looked. This fake psychic thing was shaping up to be one of his best spontaneous lies. “It’s all in that file you’re holding. My… well ‘sight’ I guess you can call it…  only lets me see bits and pieces. Apparently poor Miss San Succi is in over her head, or maybe that the CCPD considering just how little you’ve all gotten on her. I’m sure you already know that though, considering all the places she’s bombed have been buildings with military contracts or government buildings with a section for veterans affairs. She may be the one with more… I guess you’d call it visible attacks, but something provoked her.”

 

“That’s incredible… That’s… What else do you can you tell us about her?”

 

“Maybe if I knew more about her I’d have another vision, but that not going to happen. I told you already, Detective, I’ve got dinner plans with my sister,” said Len.

 

“Are you sure…” 

 

Len interrupted the detective before he could get started. He’d been playing nice all day, and even seeing that cute little CSI again wasn’t worth staying in this hellhole any longer. “I am. Unless you have some other asinine test to run - in which case I can assure you that you’ll be hearing from my lawyer - then I’m going.”

 

“Yes, I of course. You’re free to go, Mr. Snart,”

 

Len didn’t bother responding, simply sweeping out of the room as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing. He did to respond to little CSI Barry Allen’s wave from the top of the stairs. He did return the glare West gave him - it was too ingrained in him not too - but he didn’t slow down to gloat.

 

The second Len stepped back into the sunshine he could feel the weight lifting from his shoulders. Whistling a tune Len made his way into the Motocar across the street. Lisa was far more likely to forgive him if he bought her a lemon meringue pie.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Len has dinner with his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason AO3 isn't showing the date that I added this chapter (Sept. 4, 2018), so make sure you read this chapter before Chapter 5!

“You’d better have a damned good reason for being late, Lenny, or I swear to god you aren’t eating a bite of this kielbasa!” Lisa shouted from the kitchen the moment he made it through her front door.

 

He could hear her clanging around, cursing up a storm as she inevitably burned at least one part of their dinner. He preferred his balls where they were though, so he made sure to keep his chuckling silent as he fiddled with her lock, giving Lisa time to cool down before he made his way into the kitchen.

 

She grumbled as he greeted her with a kiss on the forehead, but the brat still had the pie out of his hands before pulled away. Lisa was completely, utterly predictable where The Motorcar’s pie was concerned.

 

“Wouldn’t be late without a good reason. Mick here yet?”

 

“He had to cancel,” Lisa told him as she started to load his hands with plates, utensils, and food in an obvious bid for him to set her table. “But he promised he’d still be free to meet you in the morning. Apparently that woman he’s seeing - you know, the one he thinks we don’t know about - needed him for something or another, so he made up some bullshit excuse.”

 

Len rolled his eyes. If he had a dollar for every time Mick bailed on Lisa’s dinners to get his dick wet then he wouldn’t need to worry about this next job. Then again, Len would probably bail too if he could. His sister was great at many things, but cooking was not one of them.

 

“And I don’t suppose we can call him back? I’d rather not have to go over this twice,” Len wondered, even though he already knew the answer was no.

 

“Explain what? Lenny, what’s going on?” Lisa asked.

 

Sometimes, he really loved his sister. Her previous attempts at indifference with a side of annoyance had shifted to genuine concern so fast that it took a lifetimes of experience to keep his head from spinning. She hid it by helping him set the table, but Len knew that look in her eyes too well to be fooled.

 

“I’m fine, Lisa,” he assured her, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. “I had a bit of a run in with our least favorite member of CCPD today. Before you freak out though, I want you to know their ‘charges’ were ridiculous, and I’ve completely gotten them off my back. West’s new partner is a gullible chump.”

 

“Charges! They had actual charges this time? Lenny, what the hell did they get on you? It was that last job, wasn’t it? I knew you shouldn’t have done that stupid job for the Sheikh. He didn’t give you enough time to prepare, not even getting in to the utter stupidity of doing a job without me or Mick,” Lisa complained for the millionth time.

 

“That job went fine, sis. It wasn’t the diamond,” Len assured her, forcing Lisa to sit down beside him.

 

She’d take all this much better if he could get her to start eating. Lisa tended to do take everything better when she was stuffing her face, bless her. He’d been using the same trick since she was a little girl, and he’d needed her to stay calm sitting all day in their grandfather’s ice cream truck.

 

“Then what was it?” She asked, scowl deepening as she struggled to get her perfect ratio of sausage, potatoes, and peppers on her fork.

 

“I… I may been doing something kind of stupid,” Len admitted.

 

“Lenny…”

 

She may actually kill him this time, Len thought as he winced from the sharpness of her tone. Lisa hated the CCPD even more than he did. Regardless of the impending threat to his person, Len knew he had confess everything to her anyways.

 

“You know the metahuman tip line?” he asked her.

 

It was a stupid question, but Len didn’t know where else to start. Everyone in Central City knew about the tip line. Len really didn’t think through his approach. Worse, he could see the panic she’d been displaying come back and grow tenfold at his question.

 

“The _CCPD_ one? Oh my god, did someone report you? I told you that you were being too reckless. Despite what you and Mick may think you aren’t actually invincible!”

 

“Calm down Lisa,” Len cut her off, dropping his fork to grab her hand. “The CCPD doesn’t know what I can do. No one reported me. I, uh… I’ve actually been making some reports to it - anonymously of course! But there was too many, and they got suspicious so they tracked me down. Detective West thought I was using the tipline to get rid of competition and old partners.”

 

“What the hell? You’ve been reporting to the tip line?” Lisa screamed, taking a break from her hand back to whack him roughly over the head. “Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

 

There was a twinge in his chest that could only be guilt, but Len pushed it aside. He knew Lisa would hate that he’d been calling in other metas, even if she agreed with him some were too dangerous. It’s why he hadn’t told her about the calls.

 

Len also knew what he’d done had been necessary, and he didn’t want to feel guilty about it. Regardless, he always felt like an asshole for upsetting his little sister, and knowing he was right didn’t help.

 

“It’s nothing, okay? There was a few of these new metas that were too dangerous, and I know you agree with me. Hell, you were half way there yourself with Scudder and Dillion.”

 

Lisa snorted, before scolding him. “I wanted to turn them into pretty golden statues since that self-obsessed, cheating asshole and that bitch Dillion almost screwed up one of our jobs, but I wasn’t stupid enough to contact the CCPD about them! I thought you were too.”

 

Despite how annoyed she was, Lisa wasn’t able to completely cover up her glee at Scudder and Dillion’s arrest. For the first time ever Len was actually agreed that Lisa’s ex was such a complete and utter douchebag. She inevitably perked up any time she remembered he was locked up in the Heights, especially since his new girlfriend was locked up seperately.

 

“Central City is our home, and it can’t stay that way if these metas keep destroying it,” Len pointed out.

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s your responsibility to fix ot!” snapped Lisa.

 

“I know it’s not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t point things in the right direction on occasion. Besides, it ended up being a good thing for us too. I convinced the CCPD that I got all the info because I’m metahuman psychic.”

 

It was like Len lit a fuse with his words. Lisa’s anger grew hot and quick, sparking between pure worry and rage.

 

“You told them you’re a meta! You stupid mother fu… wait, psychic?” Lisa gaped unattractively, the full meaning of his words causing her fury to fade to confusion.

 

Len felt the sudden urge to take a picture to show to any of her future boyfriends. Considering her horrible taste in men, it may actually be an effective deterrent. As though sensing his thoughts, Lisa pulled herself together and started their conversation back without missing a beat.

 

“They actually bought you’re a metahuman psychic?”

 

Lisa smiled as she spoke, genuine glee mixing with a sharp-edged feeling of superiority as she realized the implications of his latest ruse.

 

“They did, which means that they won’t link my actual powers to me,” Len confirmed.

 

“Well… crap. You make it pretty difficult to be pissed at you,” she stated with a giggle. “If that pie you brought me is is lemon meringue, I may actually have to forgive you.”

 

Len assured her with a quick smile, flicking the lid of the pie box with practiced ease. Her answering laughter between hastily eaten bites of dinner was worth more to him than anything he could steal. In the light of her brightness, Len could feel the stress from his day at the CCPD slipping away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some reason the dates for my updates are showing up right when I update, so please make sure you've read Chapter 4 before you read this one.

“You’re a damned fool. You know that, right?” Mick told Len gruffly as he joined him on the bench outside of Pullman’s Gallery.

 

His partner stole one of the two coffees from his hands as he shuffled closer to Len’s side of the bench, pretending to glance at the newspaper Len was pretending to read. It was the cup he’d already drank from, but if Mick was going to give him crap than Len was going to point out he’d grabbed the wrong drink.

 

“That's funny, coming from you,” sneered Len, smirking cruelly back in his partner so he’d catch the full implication of his words. After all, Len was known as the brains of their partnerships for a reason.

 

“Cut the shit, Snart. Lisa called me this morning. She told me what you did.”

 

“What, you meaning convincing the CCPD that I’m a psychic, and therefore completely convincing them that any jobs where I actually use my powers won’t get linked to me? Because as far as I’m concerned it’s one of the best decisions I ever made.”

 

“Yeah, until the rest of our…” Mick trailed off to let a harried-looking woman sit down beside them and started to fiddle with her phone. When it became obvious she wasn’t leaving Mick, never known as the patient one, continued. “... coworkers aren’t going be pleased when they find out. Especially not if anyone finds out just while you were called into the C…  _ Central Office _ . Plus, there is no guarantee someone won’t find out that you weren’t lying.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m actually having to say this, but you worry too much,” Len retorted.

 

He went to roll his eyes, but something caught his eye before he could get fully into the dersive motion. He saw a woman with a familiar mess of long, fiery-red curls that were peeking out of an oversized black hoodie. The woman in question was walking out of the apartments beside the gallery. It would have been nothing other than a semi-pleasant distraction, but as Len was trying to figure out just how he knew that bouncy hair, her profile was illuminated by fire that burst from a second floor apartment.

 

Holy shit - Len definitely knew that woman. He couldn’t stop himself from examining the redhead, ignoring both Mick’s adoring gaze at the fire and their benchmates terrified screams as she ran from the explosion.

 

That hair… it looked like the lovely Miss Sans Souci, but Len couldn’t think of a single reason she’d target anything in this neighborhood. Other than Pullman’s Gallery, this neighborhood was mostly residential. Unless Bette Sans Souci had decided to start attacking art galleries and the city’s best bakeries - the pecan-crusted quiches at the coffee shop around the street may actually be worth killing for - than the meta shouldn’t have had a reason to be attacking this block.

 

“... are you even listening?” 

 

“Not in the slightest,” Len told his partner honestly, rising from the bench to follow Bette Sans Souci before he lost her in the crowd.

 

Mick called after him. Len assumed at least. He thought he his partner cursing, but he wasn’t paying attention. Len was too busy weaving through the crowd, trying not to lose the elusive bomber as she fled her latest crime scene. She was getting dangerously close to a bus stop, and Len knew if she got on a bus without him he’d lose this opportunity completely. 

 

He couldn’t let that happen. Bette Sans Souci showing up at the sight of his next job, especially when he couldn’t even think of a single military target around, was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

 

“Leonard!” Mick snarled, roughly jerking his arm to pull him to a stop.

 

“Not now,” Len snapped back, trying to break his partners unrelenting grip without drawing attention. “The bomber is about to get away.”

 

“And why the hell do you care? God, do you actually  _ want _ to become the CCPD’s little psychic bitch boy? Crawling to Joe West every time some big bag criminal rubs you the wrong way?”

 

Stomping on Mick’s foot the subsequent flinch it pulled from his partner was more fulfilling than he’d assumed, but it wasn’t going to get his partner to back off. Len switched approaches, trying to keep from snapping unnecessarily. 

 

“Don’t be an idiot, Mick. What I want is more information about the talented bomber causing the CCPD a chase their tails without casualties. An IED expert could be… useful, in the right circumstances, but not if you let her get away.”

 

Mick didn’t respond, but he let go of Len’s arm and followed him. Even if he was annoyed at Len, there was no way Mick was passing up the opportunity to bring more (literal) firepower on their jobs. Together they gained on the bomber. Len was trying not to spook her, but he couldn’t tell if he was succeeding. 

 

Bette was throwing continuously more tense glances over her shoulder, a single curl bouncing every time it flicked over her right shoulder. Her sharp green eyes didn’t seem to spend any more time looking at him and Mick than anyone else, so Len hadn’t lost hope. He was rewarded when, despite her obviously growing paranoia, she still waited at the bus stop.

 

There must have been a lot of planning before this explosion. The bus was rolling to a stop beside them as the light on 42nd and University turned red, and Len knew it was always five to seven minutes late.

He’d been taking this same line periodically for the last five months as he cased the Pullman Gallery because direct route to Saints and Sinners. Just like Bette Sans Souci had been, apparently.

 

He and Mick were only half a block away from the bus stop. They were going to make it.

 

Even better, if Len could convince her quickly that he and Mick weren’t a threat than he could get a damned drink. Since he was probably going to have to delay his gallery job until the increased police presence Bette’s bombing caused died down, Len really thought she owed him at least one beer.

 

“Freeze! Leonard Snart and Mick Rory, you both need to come come with me,” an unfortunately familiar voice called out. Len could practically feel Bette and the drink she owed him slipping from his grasp at the order.

 

Mick snarled quietly beside him, but he reluctantly pulled to a stop beside Len.

 

“Well, well, well Detective West. This is the second time you’ve in as many days that you’ve wanted to question me. If you keep insisting we spend all this time together, I’m going to start thinking you have a crush on me.”

 

Joe West, predictably, pitched a fit at Len’s prodding. The ruckus they caused gave Bette plenty of cover to load the bus, her red curls visible from the back window as he and Mick were forced into the backseat of West’s Crown Vic. 

 

If the cute CSI wasn’t there this time, Bette Sans Souci was going to owe him much more than a drink.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Hope you all enjoyed. Special thanks to Daughter_of_Scotland and cassandrasfisher for your help/support writing this!
> 
> I wrote this for the Leonard Snart Big Bang. My goal was 10,000 words, but the rest isn't quite finished yet so I'll have to post it as I finish.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART for: Psych](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16227878) by [cassandrasfisher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandrasfisher/pseuds/cassandrasfisher)




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